


The River's Name

by jamiesfreckles



Category: Dragon Quest XI
Genre: Alternate Universe - Spirited Away, Emotional Hurt/Comfort, Falling In Love, Fluff and Angst, Gen, Getting Together, Hero | Luminary is Named Eleven | El (Dragon Quest XI), M/M, Magic, Mute Hero | Luminary (Dragon Quest XI), Spirited Away AU
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2020-05-25
Updated: 2020-05-25
Packaged: 2021-03-02 19:14:35
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,889
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/24371875
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/jamiesfreckles/pseuds/jamiesfreckles
Summary: Eleven finds himself trapped in a strange realm where spirits take a fancy to him, witches threaten to turn him green and slimy on the daily, and blue dragons roam the skies.“Hey!”Eleven stumbled off the railing, whirling around. There was a boy on the bridge, a boy a little shorter than him. His hair was a bright sea-blue, and his eyes were wide and shocked; his pretty face was beginning to settle into a scowl, which didn't make him any less pretty.“What are you doing here?” the boy demanded. “Get outta here, right now!”
Relationships: Camus | Erik/Hero | Luminary (Dragon Quest XI)
Comments: 4
Kudos: 19





	The River's Name

**Author's Note:**

> just a little something! I'm not sure how long it'll be, and I'll probably change quite a few things, but I love this film and I wanted to give this a shot! <3 I hope you enjoy it!! 
> 
> Also, this is not particularly an official warning, but I do describe some food here, so if that makes you uncomfortable, I just thought I would let you know! Be safe! <3

_Once you've met someone you never really forget them. It just takes a while for your memories to return._

*

“Oh, I don't understand it, I really don't,” Amber fussed, fiddling about with the car. “This darn thing never does what I ask it too—oh and would you look at that, smoke! It’s coughing up smoke now.”

Eleven stepped back, waving away plumes of smoke. Their belongings were packed against the car windows, bags and boxes pressed against the glass like they wanted to bulge free. Good riddance to the lot of it, Eleven thought, crossing his arms over his chest. They’d been in the car for hours now, and it felt like every step took them further into busy streets and the promise of a new, unexciting life. He wasn’t exactly enamoured by the idea of moving in the first place, but now they were edging into the afternoon, the car had broken down on the side of a nondescript road, and they were no closer to their new home than they had been half an hour ago. 

Chalky sighed, patted him on the arm, and moved to investigate the sputtering engine. Chalky was a plump, kindly man of many talents, one of which included fixing things that Eleven broke during his exuberant hobbies, but cars were a different matter. 

“Seems like we’ve got a snapped whatsit, or maybe a broken thingamajig,” Chalky said, with his head buried in the bonnet. He came out of it looking like a chimney-sweep, covered in soot and beaming widely. “Guess we’ll have to leave it a while until it’s cooled down. We can always explore while we wait!”

‘Explore?’ Eleven signed, glancing at the pale road leading up into the rows of tumbledown houses and hills. Behind him, off to the side of the road, there was a path surrounded on all sides by trees and steep banks. The banks were littered with small, handmade houses, each no bigger than a sparrow.

“We’ll take the picnic from the car, and have ourselves a treat,” Amber said, brushing off her hands with a matching smile, her hat slipping down over her forehead. “It’ll be lovely, I’m sure.”

Amber was of the opinion that most things in life were lovely. She was kindly too--it seemed to run in the family--although a lot sterner than her dear old dad. Eleven had never met anyone more willing to help, nor more overbearing at times. 

Eleven didn't mind the thought of a picnic. He preferred rivers and streams and the close, cool embrace of the woods to hot tarmac and busy windows. He waited while Amber locked the car, and while Chalky shouldered the bag, both of them chatting like a pair of old churchgoers, before he got too impatient to wait any longer. 

‘I’m going on ahead,” Eleven signed, glancing over his shoulder at the woods. 

“We’ll catch you up. Don’t get lost now, dear!” 

Eleven waved a hand in acknowledgement and headed up the dirt path. It looked like every finicky little path in their old home in Cobblestone; muddy and winding and smelling of wild garlic. He ducked under a swooning branch and followed the path into a clearing. 

Tall, thin trees encircled the clearing, blocking out most of the light. Eleven stopped and turned in a small circle, listening to the birdsong filter down from the branches. There were stacks of stones here and there, and more tiny houses on the ground, and one particularly odd-looking stone sticking right out of the ground in the middle of the clearing. 

But that wasn’t the most impressive thing. 

He heard footsteps behind him, and turned to see Chalky helping Amber over a fallen log. 

‘There’s a building here,’ Eleven signed, pointing behind him. It was hard to see through all the leaves, but the building was made of dark red brick, and a few stray flags fluttered on the slatted roof. He repeated the signs when Chalky tipped his head in question. 

“Oh, so there is! Well, I never would have imagined something like this hidden away back here. It doesn’t look that old, either.”

Eleven turned back to the building. There was a way through, but it was a long, dark tunnel that ran through the center of the building, and even just peering into it made him think of spiders and spirits and nighttime noises. 

“Look at this funny fellow,” Amber said, patting the stone that stuck up out of the ground. “And did you see all the shrines on the way up? Maybe this used to be a place where people came to pray.”

“Could be,” Chalky agreed. His face lit up with a youthful, mischievous energy, and he started forward towards the tunnel. “We won’t know until we explore a bit, will we?”

The moss had eaten away most of the stones. They piled up left and right, little stubborn towers that refused to fall even in the roughest weather, hidden behind weathered bracken and clumps of bushes. As Eleven stepped cautiously into the tunnel, he couldn’t help but feel like the stones had faces, like they were watching him shrink into the darkness. 

It was cool in the tunnel. Cool and dry, with an echo lying deep in the foundation of the stone, whispering secrets shared here long ago. Eleven trailed the tips of his fingers along the wall and listened to the echoes; he heard them long after he stepped out of the other side, into a warm, heather-filled field. 

“Oh my,” Amber said, sounding breathless. “What a view this is! I don't think even dear old Cobblestone had anything quite like this.”

Eleven blinked in the sudden light. He felt almost as though he had forgotten something, something from inside the tunnel. He remembered a room full of benches and light through a stained glass window, before the memory flitted away from him, a cautious creature. Eleven frowned, and let it go uncaptured. 

“I think you might be right, my dear. Let’s keep exploring, shall we? It almost looks like they were building a river along here.”

There were wildflowers in the grass, strings of green speckled with violet and yellow buds. Eleven plucked one and made his way through the fields; the further he walked, the further Amber and Chalky seemed to get, until they were nothing but hazy shapes shimmering in the sunlight. It was bright, but cool. Leaves and dust got caught up in the shape of the wind, whirling around his feet. Eleven followed the trail all the way to the river that Chalky had mentioned. 

It was a deep groove dug into the ground, running through the grassy hills and cutting off the pathway to a set of stone steps. The river was dry, and full of stones; Eleven hopped nimbly from stone to stone, careful not to slip on the moss, and turned to find Amber and Chalky dancing each other across them, laughing. 

‘You’re both strange,’ he signed fondly, when they looked at him. ‘It looks like there’s an old town up the steps. Want to see what it is or go back to the car?’

There was a resounding chorus of protests, and a cry of ‘onwards!’ that made Eleven stifle a chuckle. He followed Chalky’s forest green coat up the steps, watching it flap in the playful wind. The picnic basket they had brought with them was missing, but Eleven had a faint memory of leaving it behind in the tunnel, to stay cool while they explored. The memory was gone in the next instant. 

The old town on top of the hill was a carnival of faded colour and patchwork flags. Paper lanterns had been strung from the rooftops, arcing over their upturned inquisitive faces. There were sagging awnings and empty carts that once boasted trinkets and treats, but which had been stripped bare. Eleven swiped a finger over a nearby wall, but it came away clean. 

‘No dust. I’m surprised there’s nobody around at all,’ Eleven signed, but he received no response. Chalky and Amber had wandered deeper into the town, their footsteps echoing lightly off the colourful stone walls. Eleven jogged to keep up. 

“What is that?” Chalky said, sounding wistful. “Oh, that smells divine, that does.”

Eleven sniffed, but he could smell nothing but grass and stone. ‘I can’t smell anything. If you’re hungry, I can go and get the picnic.’

“What _is_ that?” Chalky repeated, with a glassier tone than before. 

Eleven frowned at him, and then over at Amber, who raised her nose and made a soft sound of appreciation, both of them floating along the path as though something tugged them from within. Their feet barely seemed to touch the ground. Eleven reached out, cautious, and grabbed Chalky’s arm, but it slipped through like water. 

“This way, dear,” Chalky said faintly. 

“I’m right behind you,” Amber promised, just as faintly. 

Eleven stumbled back, alarmed. He grabbed at both of their coats, but again they slipped away like he was grasping smoke. The birdsong in the distance suddenly seemed sinister, and the way the wind whipped at his ankles felt menacing rather than playful. There was a chill in the air that pushed him further into the town, following Amber and Chalky’s light, airy footsteps until they turned left into a narrow street. 

It was overflowing with food. The smell punched into him, and Eleven held a hand over his mouth and nose, his eyes watering. There were dumplings and thick cuts of meat, roasted vegetables and vats of curry brimming with spice and colour. A stall at the end of the street was laden with heavy cream cakes and pink, whipped desserts. 

“Ooh, lovely,” Amber cooed, stepping smoothly under an awning. 

Chalky was the first to fall upon the food. He bit into a hunk of bread and tore into a bowl of eggs, mindless of the steam rising from each bowl. Amber filled herself with rice, taking great handfuls and chomping noisily, in the way she always despised. Eleven stumbled backwards, narrowly missing a cart piled high with biscuits and wafers, and watched in horror as his family gorged themselves on stolen food. 

‘Granddad,’ Eleven signed, but it made no difference when they wouldn’t turn their faces away from the food. ‘Mom!’

Nothing. There was nothing from them except for vague snuffling sounds, which soon turned to snorts as they scoffed bite after bite. Eleven shifted a little closer, eyes fixed on the back of Chalky’s neck, where a sliver of skin was visible. Something was happening. Something impossible. Slowly, slowly, the freckled patch of skin turned from a pale colour to a faint, sunburned pink. 

‘I’m going to look around,’ Eleven signed, turning his face away sharply; something was happening, and he didn't want to see it. ‘See if I can find the cooks, or someone we can pay.’

“Carry on, love,” Amber said, but her voice was so faint it may as well have been the wind. “We’ll be here, eating.”

Chalky made a triumphant sound as he dug into a platter of fish, but there were no more words from either of them. Only the snorting and sniffling that made him viscerally uncomfortable, in a way he couldn’t quite identify. Eleven backed away even further, his back rigidly straight, and crept carefully through the rest of the street. 

There was more food sitting pretty on the rest of the stalls, but Eleven didn't let himself look for too long. 

It was just the sun, Eleven decided. It was the bright sun playing havoc with his mind, twisting perfectly innocent things into something darker, something that felt like trouble. The sun could do all sorts of terrible things to the mind, and he hadn’t had a drink in a while, so maybe that was it. 

As though thinking about it had summoned it, Eleven heard the sound of running water. It was a thunderous sound, loud and pervasive, and he wondered how he hadn’t noticed it before. His feet took him to the brink of an arched bridge, where the noise was the strongest. 

On either side of the bridge’s red railing was a rushing, tumultuous waterfall. The water crashed down into pools swarmed by mist, tumbling over craggy rocks and caverns. Eleven ran to the edge of the bridge and looked down into the swirling water, and jerked back, stunned. 

There was no water. The ground was far off and dry as dust, and running parallel with the bridge was a railway track made of glittering iron and wood. He swung himself up onto the railing and gaped as a train rattled underneath the bridge, vanishing into a tunnel set into the cliff face. 

“Hey!”

Eleven stumbled off the railing, whirling around. There was a boy on the bridge, a boy a little shorter than him. His hair was a bright sea-blue, and his eyes were wide and shocked; his pretty face was beginning to settle into a scowl, which didn't make him any less pretty. 

“What are you doing here?” the boy demanded. “Get outta here, right now!”

‘We just—’ Eleven tried to explain, fumbling his words, but the boy shoved him back. 

“There’s no time for that, it’s almost dark here.”

Eleven glanced out at the horizon, where the sky was edged with a thick blackness. It seemed to spread the longer he looked, turning the bright heavens an inky blue, as though whatever watched them from on high was shutting the curtains. 

The boy fisted his hands briefly in Eleven’s shirt, crumpling the material, while his face spasmed with frustration. He was so close, and surprisingly pretty, and strangely angry, although Eleven supposed he _was_ intruding. 

A light flickered to life behind the boy. Then another, and another, and then dozens more in a mesmerising wave of flickering colour. Eleven looked up and up and found himself in the shadow of a tall, crimson bathhouse; the windows glimmered and rattled in the wind. 

Eleven gasped softly. The boy whipped his head around and cursed under his breath, letting loose a string of words that Amber would have slapped Eleven’s hands for. When he turned back, his face was set in fierce determination, and he grabbed Eleven by the shoulders and hauled him back across the bridge. 

“Look, if they’re lighting the lanterns, that means we’re too late. Keep quiet, and run fast. If you can make it across the river, you’ll be safe. I can distract them until you’re over, but you have to run, now!”

The boy threw him forward. Eleven tripped and kept on running, not stopping to watch the boy blow blue petals into the air, nor the way he shifted and changed on the bridge, shrouded in darkness. Instead he took the shadowed staircase away from the waterfalls, racing through the streets until he heard that strange snorting sound. 

It was louder now. He rounded the corner and ducked under the awning, only to reel backwards again when confronted with a pink, fleshy snout. 

There was a pig under the awning. Two pigs, in fact. One of them was standing on a heap of cloth, and the other one was bulging out of a soft, forest green coat. There was food smeared on their skin and littering the floor. 

Eleven gasped again, this time fighting against a tight feeling in his throat. His fingers trembled, but he made no words; there were none to be had, not here, not for this. 

He turned tail and ran. 

_That wasn’t them,_ Eleven thought frantically, as he raced through the shadowed streets. _That wasn’t them, and it was just the sun playing tricks on my mind, even though there isn’t any sun anymore, and I’m going to go back to the car and find them waiting for me and put all of this behind me._

Something loomed out of the dark, startling him, but he didn't stop. He kept running. Lights flickered to life on either side of him, and lanterns were lit by unseen hands, and shivering luminescent creatures came out of the dark in heaps and mounds, but Eleven didn't stop running. Not until he reached the stairs leading down into the almost-river, and plunged forward only to find it chock-full with icy cold water. 

Eleven yelped. It was _freezing,_ and the shock drew him out of his panic. Even this close to the stairs, the water came up to his chin; trying to swim across it, fully-clothed and frantic, would be a fool’s errand. 

There were lights across the water. Hundreds and thousands of lights blooming from buildings that hadn’t been there before. The whole field was now a vast expanse of water, and it wasn’t until he scrambled up onto the steps and slumped there, adrenaline rushing through him, that the situation finally caught up with him. 

This wasn’t his world. 

_This has to be a dream,_ Eleven thought, ducking his head to hide his tears. They were sudden and jarring, but he couldn’t stop them. _It’s a weird dream, and I’m going to wake up in the back of the car any minute now._

Eleven peered through his fingers. The dream world was still there, and now there was a boat cutting through the water with an eerie, dreamy certainty, headed straight for the steps. It was tall, like a tiered cake, and lit with orange flames that danced wickedly, reflected hazily in the water. He could see the shapes of more creatures flitting here and there on deck, but he knew now that they weren’t creatures. 

Spirits. They had to be spirits. Or monsters, or something otherworldly that he wasn’t supposed to know about. 

He wasn’t supposed to _be_ here. 

Eleven peered through his fingers again, and rather abruptly realised that he was peering _through_ them, through skin and muscle and blood vessels. His hands were translucent, like gauzy curtains, and he stood with a horrified mewl, rubbing his hands along the skin of his arms, trying to feel something, trying to grasp at himself. 

“Hey!” came a voice again. 

Eleven turned, tears flowing freely now. There was a figure running down the stairs, skittering small rocks everywhere with his light footsteps. It was the blue-haired boy from before, and for a minute Eleven wondered if he should be ashamed of his tears, but he quickly decided that he didn't care. 

“You can’t speak right?” the boy said, when he skidded to a halt in front of him. “That’s alright, that’s fine. I can read you if I just—if I—Oh, damn it.” The boy reached into his pockets and pulled out a small, blue berry, scattering others on the floor as he spoke. “Quick, help me pick them up!”

But Eleven didn't want to pick them up, and he didn't want to speak to this stranger that had shouted and shoved him, and he didn't want to be standing next to a river where there should have been a field. He wanted to find his family and go _home._

Eleven took off running. 

“Hey, wait! It’s not safe!”

But Eleven didn't wait. He ran through the dark maze of streets until he found somewhere quiet and still, somewhere he could still see the water and the boat coming towards this strange island. Then he sank to the ground again and cried, his tears dripping through his vanishing arms. All of him was disappearing now, slowly and steadily vanishing from view, starting with the tips of his toes. 

“Oi!” 

Eleven slumped against the wall he’d found and stared balefully out of one eye; the blue-haired boy was running through the dark towards him. He was panting for breath, his oaky green shirt undone at the front. 

“You know, if you run off again, I’m not going to be able to help you.” The boy crouched down in front of him and frowned. “You’re fading. This is why you need to stay still for longer than a few seconds, so I can show you what to do.”

Eleven glared up at him, trying to wipe his eyes and failing. ‘How are you going to help?’ 

The boy sighed, and then he raised his hands and signed: ‘All you need is a berry.’

Eleven blinked. ‘You couldn’t sign before.’

The boy scratched the back of his neck and said, “Yeah, well, I have magic, you know. It’s a magical place, and all that. But listen, you need to eat something from this world, or you’re going to fade from it.”

And he thrust out a berry, only for Eleven to shrink back. 

‘You dropped them on the floor!’ 

The boy slapped a hand over his eyes and dragged it down his face, groaning. “You’re fading from view, but you won’t eat one dirty berry? Look, it’s not that bad. I brushed it off for you.” Then, much softer, the boy said, “Please? I’m trying to help you.” 

Eleven blinked at him. He really was quite a lot shorter than him, kneeling there in the dirt, and his hair still looked sea-bright, even in the dark. There was a kindness in his eyes hidden beneath the frustration, a kindness that Eleven hadn’t noticed before. 

Obligingly, not letting himself think about it too much, Eleven opened his mouth. The boy popped the berry on his tongue, and Eleven grimaced at the tart, sweet taste. It went down like a lump of coal and sat heavily in his belly, but at least he could feel it. 

“See?” 

The boy sounded smug and fond in equal measure. It made no sense, coming from a stranger, but Eleven lifted his hands and saw that the light was no longer coming through them, and he decided to let it be. 

Then the boy took his hand, very gently, and their palms grazed each other. It was a soft touch that sent a shudder through him. Eleven was just glad to _feel_ it. He wiped away the last of his tears and clung tightly to the boy's hand.

There was a great creaking noise from the distance. They watched in silence as the boat bumped gently against the stairs. A plank rose up and fell down against the stone, and all along the boat, doors opened wide. Creatures came pouring out of them. 

“Spirits,” the boy whispered. “You’ll know what they are if you think hard enough.”

Drackys, Chimeras, Deadnaut’s and Slimes. More names filled Eleven’s mind as he watched the spirits disembark, flapping and oozing down the streets. He didn't know where the names came from, but he knew the boy was right, and that they belonged to these creatures. 

“We can’t stay here, but we need to make sure you’re not seen,” the boy said. “Come on, I have a plan. Are you with me?” 

The boy’s eyes were bright. He didn’t let go of Eleven’s hand, still holding on tightly, so there was no way to sign something in return. But Eleven didn’t need to. He wasn’t sure if he trusted this boy, but something about the kindness in his eyes, and the way he held tight to Eleven made it easier to stand. He nodded, stumbling to his feet, and let the boy lead him away into the darkness.

**Author's Note:**

> Thank you so much!! Say hi if you like!! <3


End file.
